


all the same

by inralphlauren



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, OT7 Dynamics, bungou stray dogs au, romance is important but also not really, squint for the markson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inralphlauren/pseuds/inralphlauren
Summary: youngjae likes to believe he's strong and that his love for people motivates his worth ethic. but on some days, some occasions, he allows himself to be selfish.





	all the same

**Author's Note:**

> this is a complete mess but i was never going to finish this but neither did i want it deleted so i just tried to patch it up and here's the outcome. the fic is loosely based off bungou stray dogs (pretty decent anime imho). i apologize for any mistakes beforehand!

Youngjae drops his wooden chopsticks with a soft clatter. Bambam, who was in the midst of slurping his ramen, stops the noise he’s making and looks up at Youngjae who is sitting right across from him.

“Youngjae?” Even though the voice is coming from the kitchen, he can hear the other voice clearly, worry underlying the use of his name. It’s Jaebum.

The vision stops when he recognizes it’s Jaebum, a shudder ransacking his body, eyes fluttering closed at the sheer force of it. He’s only got a few minutes, give or take. He shouldn’t call them; it wouldn’t be prudent. Rather he needs to—

“Bambam,” his voice sounds tiny to his own ears, the persistent ringing drowning out his words. He exhales, letting go of the tormenting air within him, and inhales. “You have to get Yugyeom. Now.” His hand is trembling, but as his vision shifts focus from his hand to Bambam, he notices the younger male’s expression turn serious. Without another word, Bambam gets up and briskly walks upstairs.

Youngjae senses a presence behind him, and a second later feels a warm hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Youngjae are you okay?”

Youngjae remains silent, but not because he wants to, but because the words can’t leave him. His brain is commanding his jaw to open, to tell Mark that _no, it’s not okay_ , but he body isn’t responding.

_Get a grip_ , he tells himself, and it’s only then that his tongue wills itself to dart out of his mouth, wetting his chapped lips. His throat still feels like it’s full of cotton.

“Jackson-hyung and Jinyoung-hyung—” he croaks midway, and it’s only then that Mark understands the nature of the situation, the tremor that passes through his hand evidence of that.

“Shit, do we need to—?” It’s a question Youngjae expects, so he tries to provide an explanation.

Shaking his head, Youngjae turns his upper body toward Mark, looking up at the man with stormy eyes. “No.” His voice is firmer this time, and it surprises him. “Jackson-hyung is all right. He’s bringing Jinyoung-hyung. That’s all my vision showed me.” Youngjae bites the inside of his cheek, his index finger drawing rough circles at its junction with his thumb in a habit he knows all too well. “But Jinyoung-hyung... he—” his voice cracks, so Mark takes the initiative to rest his hand atop his bicep.

“Listen to me, Youngjae. It’s going to be okay. You asked Bambam to get Yugyeom, right?” Mark pauses, but Youngjae knows it’s a question to comfort him more so than to get an answer. “Yugyeom will be ready to deal with whatever happened to him, okay?” Youngjae says nothing for a few seconds, be he ends up nodding in response to Mark’s words.

“For now, you can help us by telling us what more you saw in your vision.” Jaebum takes a sit next to him, hand coming to rest on Youngjae’s thigh. “Tell me, Youngjae. What else did you see?”

“Jaebum.” Mark’s voice is an octave lower, the gentleness it regarded Youngjae with no longer there. “The vision was about Jinyoung.” And Jackson, Youngjae wants to tell them, but they’ll see right through him regardless. “If he doesn’t want to tell us, he doesn’t have to. You know how overwhelming his visions can be—”

“I know full well.” There’s finality in Jaebum’s voice when he speaks again, “if you don’t want to tell me, let me have a look.” Although his words leave no room for argument, Jaebum’s eyes are searching when Youngjae meets his gaze.

Is this okay? Jaebum speaks inside his mind, and Youngjae can’t help but close his eyes at the sudden sensation. If Jaebum used this on anyone else, it would be a last resort as it violates everything innate about privacy. Amongst the seven of them, however, it’s become something more intimate and necessary. Nowadays, Jaebum refuses to use his power unless absolutely necessary but even then he asks for consent first. It wasn’t always this way. I won’t hurt you, Youngjae. I promise.

Youngjae nods, and feels two thumbs rest at either of his temples. It’s an overwhelming sensation, but Youngjae braces himself through it. When Jaebum drops his hands to his sides, it is only then that Youngjae opens his eyes. Jaebum is no longer looking at him and is now standing on his two feet.

“Mark, help me get both the futons out. Youngjae, don’t get up just yet.”

The more methodical part of Youngjae’s brain protests, curses Jaebum for thinking he’s weak enough to be unfit to make his own decisions. Youngjae wants to help too, damn it all. It’s not like he hasn’t experienced his visions mid-combat, fighting enemies at gun point while the various possibilities of how he can die project in his mind. Yet, the other part of Youngjae’s brain knows that the reason he can’t come up with a viable solution to the current problem is because two people he cares so much about will be affected by his decisions.

This isn’t like the times he’s faced death, the times he’s been shot in different parts of the body. This time, Youngjae is directly imposing on the lives of other people—of his best friends. This has never happened before, and this is the reason why Youngjae can’t move, frozen in place.

_Get a grip_ , his mind screams again.

“Youngjae-hyung!” Yugyeom shouts, his chest rising and falling in shortness of breath. “Hyung, what’s going on?” Yugyeom asks, staying true to his nature.

“Bambam,” Youngjae is surprised at the newfound steadiness in his voice. “I need you to gather all of the emergency supplies we have. Quickly. I don’t know how much time we have until they arrive.”

“They?” Yugyeom asks.

“Jackson-hyung and Jinyoung-hyung.” Yugyeom tenses at his words.

“Fuck.”

“Now’s not the time to get nervous, Yugyeom.” Youngjae looks down at how white his knuckles appear as they grip onto the corner of the table. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, you’re normally in a lot of it, I know. But listen. I need you to keep calm and do whatever you can to help them, please.”

Yugyeom bites his lower lip, nibbling at it. His hands are grabbing at the edges of his oversized hoodie’s sleeves. Youngjae knows that Yugyeom was dragged into this world far too young, at the tender age of fourteen, but his powers were meant to help others. Yugyeom had insisted on that, too. Youngjae, who was only a year older, could do nothing but see him get sucked into the world of Seoul’s underground, illegal organizations. Yugyeom’s sense of conviction had led him to make such an important decision at such a young age. Sometimes, Youngjae questions if he regrets his decision.

“You don’t even have to ask me, hyung.” Yugyeom’s voice is stern now, full of ambition. “I will nurse them back to health. You can count on me.”

“They’re here!” Jaebum shouts from the guest room, and they all simultaneously run toward the entrance of the townhouse.

“Hyungs!” Bambam shouts, and the door opens up without the physical turn of the knob.

Jackson is standing there, a pale Jinyoung sprawled over his back. There’s a vibrant red stain on the left side of his abdomen.

“Help him first,” Jackson’s voice pleads in a trembling tone. “Please.”

Jackson does not get the opportunity to elaborate or do anything else because he’s collapsing into Yugyeom’s arms. Luckily, Youngjae intercepts the fall as well and guides a quivering Jinyoung into his arms to prevent him from falling onto Jackson and Yugyeom.

“Yugyeom—” his voice is small, but Yugyeom hears it and nods.

“I know.”

* * *

It’s midnight now, but Youngjae still hasn’t left Jinyoung’s side. They’ve moved him into the guest room, after Yugyeom managed to regenerate the tissue on damaged organs. After fifteen minutes, Yugyeom couldn’t continue his ministrations, but he had assured Youngjae that Jinyoung was at least stable before turning to Jackson and treating him.

Jackson had slipped in and out of consciousness the past seven hours, even cracking a joke at an extremely worried Mark. Jinyoung remained unconscious, and Youngjae felt his anxiety slowly eat away at his sanity.

Jinyoung’s hand is cold in his own, but not as cold as his body had been earlier. Still, Youngjae’s thumb continues to draw small circles on the back of Jinyoung’s hand. He traces the small birth mark below Jinyoung’s index finger, blinking when he absentmindedly begins to draw a heart around it. Youngjae heaves a sigh, his back slumping into its usual form.

“Jinyoung-hyung, why do you always have to put yourself in the face of danger?” Youngjae doesn’t expect a reply, but he still hopes so he waits a bit until he disappointingly continues.

“I know that you want to protect as many people as possible—we all do. But you... you know you don’t have to do it alone.” Youngjae looks down, lips pressed into a firm line.

“I wonder...” he trails off. “If we would have met somewhere else... at another time... would things be different?” Would you stop putting everyone else before me? Youngjae mentally slaps himself and is disgusted by his own thoughts. Who was he to ask something of that magnitude from Jinyoung? The truth was, Youngjae was a hypocrite because he knew that if he ever had to choose between helping innocent people and being happy with Jinyoung, he’d always choose the former. Still, he did not understand how both concepts had to be mutually exclusive, why Youngjae couldn’t have one or the other. Jinyoung had explained that they could not be together because it compromised and jeopardized the collective security of the team. Youngjae had not understood then, and it is evident that he does not understand now.

“Even if what we have will never be given a name or proper acknowledgment... Jinyoung-hyung.” Youngjae’s breathing turns shaky, and his eyes tear up. “We’re connected, and that won’t change. What I saw today—that’s definitely because what I feel is reciprocated by you.”

Youngjae bows his head down, resting his forehead on Jinyoung’s clothed shoulder, the one that is not hurt.

"Stop thinking so much." The voice is weak, but unmistakable. "I can practically hear the gears in your head turning."

"Jinyoung-hyung—" Youngjae stutters, crawling closer to the elder on the mat. "I—how much did you hear?" Jinyoung seems to assess him, eyes barely open. Youngjae can still see the white of eyeball, however, and he can also feel the way Jinyoung takes in his current state. "Not much, just the last part." Youngjae pauses, color draining from his face.

Jinyoung simply stares at him, dark brown eyes slightly unfocused, but still full of that adoration Youngjae has grown accustomed to over the years. He wishes they didn't reflect the love he knows Jinyoung holds for him, a love that if nonexistent, would help Youngjae be less selfish.

"I see." He's still stuttering, a habit of his whenever he is nervous or under intense scrutiny. Youngjae focuses on Jinyoung's breathing, and he notably is having a difficult time carrying out the task. His overprotectiveness kicks in. Youngjae automatically moves his hand to rest on Jinyoung's bandaged shoulder, the fabric clinching onto Youngjae's slightly calloused fingers."Take it easy hyung, you can tease me later." Youngjae allows his eyebrows to come together and form a sharp v-shape. His eyes widen at a thought. "Did you want me to bring you some water?"

Jinyoung nods weakly. "Please?"

When Youngjae returns with a filtered pitcher and glass cup, Jinyoung places his weight on his elbows and begins to sit up until Youngjae's voice stops him mid-action. "Don't do that," Youngjae chastises. Once he's poured the water into the cup and he's close enough to Jinyoung, Youngjae places the pitcher on the floor and gently places his hand at the column of Jinyoung's neck. "Don't use up your strength, just let me sit you up slightly." Youngjae presses the glass against Jinyoung's lips, and he guesses it's slightly cold because Jinyoung is shuddering against his hand. Nonetheless, Jinyoung drinks all of the liquid inside the cup and lets out a shaky breath. Youngjae gives the water a few seconds to go down his throat before gently placing Jinyoung's head back on the pillow.

“Rest, hyung,” Youngjae commands, and it’s rare whenever he opts to take initiative but he’s leaving no room for argument through his tone. Jinyoung seems to get the point because he lays back down on the best slowly, Youngjae’s hand guiding the paced movement.

It’s only when Jinyoung closes his eyes, small smile gracing his lips as he softly holds onto Youngjae’s own hand that he realizes that his selfishness is no match for the adoration and respect he has for Jinyoung and the rest. “Recover quickly,” Youngjae speaks softly, not trusting his voice with further words in fear that his voice will crack or he’ll begin to cry.

“You’re taking care of me,” Jinyoung says, although his eyes are already closed. “That’s all I need.”

When Jinyoung finally falls asleep, Youngjae allows himself to exit the room and slides down the door once he shuts it quietly. Youngjae’s body shakes as sobs ransack body, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. He may be selfish, he may want things all for himself, but he’ll never let that greed come to fruition. Youngjae understands that he is needed more than he deserves needing, and that will continue to serve as his motivation. For everyone he holds dear, Youngjae will continue to place others before himself and his own happiness.

 


End file.
